


The Beat Goes On

by Feytwilight



Series: Whitechapel Mysteries [1]
Category: Whitechapel (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-18
Updated: 2013-08-15
Packaged: 2017-12-20 14:00:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 11,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/888092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Feytwilight/pseuds/Feytwilight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nobody has been quite the same since the conclusion of the Bogeyman case, but they have got to somehow get it together to face their newest foe, a sadistic killer, who's victims greatly resemble someone they all know...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Drinking To Get Drunk

He wandered, lost, down the hall, shrouded in darkness, the distant yells echoing behind him. He couldn’t stop seeing her in his mind’s eye, she’s alive and touching him in a way no one has ever touched him, she lies dead her eyes staring accusingly, she kisses him gently without the slightest hint of reservation, her blood soaks an unflattering white shroud, the last outfit she would ever wear, and all because of him. Chandler heard the muted shrieks behind him and knew he was damned.  
Why hadn’t he put Cindy Waltney in an interrogation room straight away, he should have taken better precautions. Why didn’t he take Morgan home when she had asked him to? Why hadn’t he changed his shirt? He knew that didn’t make sense, but it must be the reason. That was why this had happened; he hadn’t even snapped the rubber band. He looked at his wrist and with a twist of his lips snapped the rubber band, and then again, and again, this was his fault, he had killed her, SNAP! The rubber band broke around his sore, welted wrist and landed on the tiled floor. He came to a halting stop and stared at the torn bit of rubber. He wanted to leave it there, what worse could happen if he did? He suddenly saw a vision of Miles in torment, Kent screaming in agony, again… He knelt down quickly and picked it up with a weak sob wrenched from his throat. He entered the nearest door, a janitorial closet, and hurriedly chucked it in the bin. Then he went to find the bottle hidden in his desk.

Miles knew that saying this was not good would be an understatement. Chandler couldn’t handle this right now, he was obviously in shock, which meant he had to deal with the screaming bitch, the poor girl’s body, the questions, and the bloody paper work, all after having had no sleep for last few days and working a hell of an enquiry. DS Miles lifted his head and ordered the men restraining Mrs. Waltney to read her rights and put her in a cell downstairs. Then he ordered the gawkers to go fuck themselves and had SOCO come to take care of the crime scene and the body. Anyone could see what had happened, they had messed up, but procedure had to be followed. Actions would have to be made, against constable Landsmen who had been put in charge of the bitch at the very least. And they would all need to be debriefed, eventually. DI Salvo came to take charge of the situation, which was probably for the best. Miles and his team were completely knackered body and soul. He and a pale Kent shared a meaningful look. Before he clocked off he had to find the Guv, and he had a sinking feeling that he knew where to look. 

Miles panted as he finally reached the roof of the Met and spotted DI Joseph Chandler sitting precariously on the ledge of the building. Chandler had a large bottle of Vodka in one hand, half empty. An empty silver flask sat on the ledge beside him. He should probably keep his promise and give the Boss some space, but after seeing how wretched he looked, he thought, maybe not just yet. Miles approached cautiously, “Er, are you alright Sir?” Miles flinched when Jo giggled out,  
“Sir?!”  
“Are your…issues that bad right now?” Miles asked tentatively. Chandler lifted the bottle by the neck and took a swig.  
“I’m drinking to get drunk Miles.”  
“This ain’t a good place to get pissed.”  
“I can’t think of a better place, go away Miles.”  
“Ya know I can’t do that, whatever Morgan said-” Chandler clutched his head.  
“-Don’t, Don’t say her name!-”  
“-I can’t leave you alone right now. You look like you’re about to take the shortcut to the lobby.”  
“Maybe I am…why shouldn’t I, it’s like you said, I don’t really have anyone, it doesn’t matter what happens to me.” Chandler took an extra long swig and stared down past his dangling legs at the pavement far below.  
“It’s not your fault.”  
“Isn’t it?”  
“You know it isn’t.”  
“She, she kissed me Miles, did you know that?”  
“Aw, sir.” Miles shuffled awkwardly, understanding now why Joe had seemed so uncharacteristically happy not so long ago.  
“We had planned a date, an actual date, I could have seen myself being with her forever, she could have been my Judy, and I killed her.”  
“No, that bitch killed her, not you. She was right though.”  
“R-Right?”  
“Morgan was, I shouldn’t have interfered, got you two together, meddled with your personal life, I’ve reduced you to this state.” Chandler turned around suddenly, his face flushed.  
“S’not your fault, it’s all mine, everything is.” Miles grabbed Chandler by his sleeve. Chandler flinched.  
“Come on Boss, let’s get you home, we’ll sort this out latter.” Chandler sniffed suspiciously but let himself be pulled down and away from the ledge by Miles. Miles plucked the mostly empty bottle out of his hand, set it on the ground, and gently prodded a stumbling Chandler toward the Exit.

After sneaking him out of the Met, he drove to Chandler’s apartment building and had some comedic problems dragging his semi-conscious Boss, who sometimes made him feel like a midget, up to his apartment and past a straight-faced doorman. Luckily Miles had a spare keycard and knew the number to unlock the door, which he then proceeded to do as Chandler leaned against the wall with his eyes closed. Miles then shoved him inside. Miles had been to Chandler’s apartment on a number of occasions, the first time had been to get him home after Chandler’d been nearly catatonic from getting doused in sewage during the Fleet River case, now that had been a bad ‘un! Then there had been the Kray incident, the unfortunate attempt at a birthday party, and the break in. The last time had been when he needed to get some sleep and simply couldn’t close his eyes with the baby and kids at home so he’d knocked off at Chandler’s in a fit of desperation and a sleeping bag.  
Chandler’s apartment was a study in muted earthy tones, gadgetry, and glass; all the lights were dim so that they wouldn’t bother him when he got one of his heads. Miles guided Chandler to his bed, where he promptly collapsed. Miles then wondered what he should do, should he really leave the Boss here by himself? He looked at him sprawled uncharacteristically in all directions, hair sticking up and his back and face still tense even when asleep. He wished there was someone he could call, some family member or other to look after him, but there wasn’t, there was just him. Miles sighed and decided to try out Morgan’s advice, Chandler was safe at the moment and he doubted that he would appreciate being mollycoddled right now anyway. So he made the uncomfortable decision to leave Chandler to look after himself and went to go see to the rest of the team and to his own family. He’d worry about the Boss and everything else after getting at least a few hours shuteye.

It had been almost two weeks since the Bogeyman case and Chandler had still not returned, he remained on sick leave. Morgan’s sad funeral had occurred the week before. Buchan had attended. When he returned he informed the rest of the team in a quiet voice that her mother had been absolutely devastated. Which was to be expected. Miles and the rest of the team had tried convincing the Guv to come back but to no avail, even Commander Anderson, who had been less than sympathetic, had tried. Kent kept rearranging the items on his desk as if making up for Chandler’s absence. He also snapped at everything and everyone and tried to focus on working the cold files so that he would be extra sharp for when the Boss returned, which he increasingly insisted would be soon. Miles was not so sure. 


	2. Dead Ringer

Edward Buchan strolled leisurely along the busy thoroughfare umbrella in hand, lost in the past. When he reached Joe’s apartment building, he entered, went up the lift, and knocked on Joe’s door. After a few minutes of insistent tapping, he called out, “Joe, it’s me Ed, open up!” Five minutes later, Chandler opened the door looking disheveled and unshaven with a bathrobe wrapped tight around his monogramed pajamas. Chandler left the door open and turned abruptly without a word. He walked towards the kitchen and began to warm up some tea. Buchan closed his mouth and the door and followed Joe into his unnaturally immaculate home. He noticed a ukulele leaning against a leather couch. He hadn’t known that Chandler played. “Er, Joe, about our earlier conversation, I’ve been looking into who might be a worthy assistant to share the weight of our investigations, and I believe I’ve found some worthwhile candidates.” Chandler turned from the stove.  
“Ed, don’t you realize… I’m not even certain I should return to police work.”  
“Of course you will Joe, it’s your destiny.”  
“You really think I should come back…after…everything?”  
“We’ve saved lives Joe, even on our last case, we saved someone and that is what I take home with me at the end of the day, don’t let your ghosts haunt you. Together, we can make a real difference, we have.”  
“But I failed her.”  
“Then don’t let her death be a waste, be what causes you to abandon all the future lives we can save, I knew her, she would never have wanted that.” Buchan looked up at him earnestly. Chandler sighed noncommittally as the kettle behind him began screaming.  
“Maybe.” He took the kettle off and carefully poured out two cups.

The next day Miles was surprised to see Chandler sitting in his office as if he had never left, scanning a file. Miles knocked hesitantly on his door. Chandler looked up, “Did you need something?” Miles grinned,  
“Not anymore.” Chandler gave a brief smile in return and went back to his file. When Kent arrived and saw that Chandler had come back he almost looked like he was in physical pain. Kent went quietly to his desk and organized his pens and then reorganized them. Buchan then strolled up with a smug smile as he passed Miles on his way to Chandler’s office. Miles nodded gratefully to him, hating himself for making the bumbling historian any haughtier than he already was, but he couldn’t help showing his gratitude. Buchan also had a stranger in tow, a tow-headed beauty. She was long, slender, and busty with a flash of blue eyes lamentably hidden behind the pile of books in her arms. Miles couldn’t help looking her up and down, even though he had Judy and the kids at home.  
When they entered Chandler’s office, Miles followed, as did everyone else’s eyes. Chandler looked up at Buchan and then at the blond, his eyes staying fixed on hers, and asked, “This is your candidate then, Ms. Trandle is it not?” Chandler stood up and helped her put the books she was carrying onto a chair so that he could shake her hand cautiously. She blinked  
“Oh, please call me Sally-“ Buchan bustled up and interrupted,  
“Indeed, she’s already begun alphabetizing the Archive, clever girl.” Sally Trandle blushed and muttered.  
“Only the foreign cases so far, it is all so terribly fascinating.” Chandler smiled coldly and nodded, then looked to Buchan.  
“Buchan, can I speak to you alone for a moment?”  
“Sure, Joe.” Sally left with some backward glances, with Miles who closed the door behind them.  
“Ed, you know I can’t afford to pay her much, and this is official police business, we can’t just let anyone-“  
“Oh don’t worry about that Joe, I’ve vetted her completely, no criminal activity whatsoever, and she will work for less than peanuts.”  
“It isn’t just that, I am also concerned about why you chose her.” Chandler asked with a penetrating grey-eyed glance.  
“Why? I chose her because she took courses in criminology and forensic psychology, and because she needed the work to help her through college.”  
“So long as those are the only reasons.”  
“Hum, I’m surprised you even noticed.”  
“Buchan, I’m complicated, not dead.”

It was almost another month until their next big case. Buchan was putting his new assistant through her paces. Kent still seemed oddly strained whenever he worked around or talked to Chandler, though Chandler was too preoccupied to notice. Kent had also taken to wearing completely black clothing. Riley kept asking him if he was mourning the death of fashion. Kent just ignored her. Miles, Riley, and Mansell seemed almost back to normal. Chandler had lost some of his usual confidence but was doing his best at working the local domestics that cropped up. Then his phone rang. “Not a domestic? We’ll take it! Miles it’s a homicide!” Chandler yelled with a grin.  
“You don’t need ta sound that cheerful about it.” Miles grumbled.  
“Oh come on, I know your eager too.”  
“Well I s’pose you’ve got me there. So where’s the vic?”  
“A car park over by East Aldgate.” Mansell added,  
“That’s close.” Miles glared,  
“Then let’s shift!”  
By the time they arrived the crime scene was already surrounded by SOCO, looking worriedly at the tent in their midst. Chandler and Miles put on their suits and then led the way to the body. Dr. Llewellyn looked incredibly relived when she saw Chandler. She stood oddly tense outside the tent waiting for them. She put up a hand to block Chandler’s path. “Oh, thank God you’re alright.” Chandler looked at her oddly,  
“What do you mean?”   
“Chandler, there is something I need to ask you.” Chandler eyes widened questioningly.  
“Er…Yes?” Dr. Caroline Llewellyn took a breath.  
“Do you have a brother?” Chandler shook his head confusedly.  
“No, why do you ask?”  
“Well, this is difficult for me to say, but Chandler, our victim, he could be a dead ringer for you, hell, he might as well be your twin.”


	3. As Per Usual

The John Doe had been laid out on Dr. Llewellyn’s table in the Pathology lab. Miles looked anywhere but at the vic, for once not immune to the morbid sight before him. A harsh blow had crushed in the back of the victim’s skull, while leaving the face, and its uncanny resemblance, intact. The body had been beaten, had had both of his hands cut off at the wrist, his back mutilated, and his teeth had been removed, messily. The victim’s missing hands and teeth had not been found at the crime scene. The car park had apparently only been the dumpsite. Chandler stared at the corpse. He couldn’t turn away; looking at a dead body that so resembled his own, was somehow, eerily…fascinating. He got out his Tiger Balm and massaged it into his temples, the cold burn relaxing him as he listened to the Doctor’s report. Dr. Llewellyn went about her grisly business matter-of-factly. Her clinical assessment droned on, describing the cause of death. Her voice warbling strangely as it passed through the viewing glass.  
“…the victim has suffered a postmortem blunt force traumatic injury with multiple cranial fractures resulting in cranio-cerebral injury. Wound measures approximately 101.6 MM high x 139.7 MM wide. Subdural hematoma and comminuted fractures of the occipital bone are observed. Numerous bone fragments from the fractures penetrated the brain tissue. Depths of penetration range from 12.7 MM to 76.2 MM. Injury appears to have resulted from a single blow administered to the posterior of the head, delivered at an approximate 90º angle to the occipital bone…” As she was about to continue, Chandler asked,  
“What of his hands? The teeth, the back injuries, were they postmortem as well?” She shook her head sadly,  
“I’m afraid that isn’t the case here. This man was alive while these injuries were inflicted upon him, however, judging from the dilation of his pupils and the plasticity of his epidermis; it’s possible he may have been heavily drugged. As to what he would have been drugged with, well, we will let you know as soon as we’ve finished our tests.” Miles nodded,  
“Get it back to us as soon as poss, alrigh’ love?” Llewellyn nodded solemnly,  
“I will.”

Chandler knew Miles was concerned about him and this case, even if he had kept his reservations to himself for once. Even he could tell that there was something decidedly odd about this one. The victim had been wearing a three-piece suit, was the spitting image of him, and had been found in Whitechapel on his own patch. Miles thought that there must be something shifty going on. Chandler privately, although cautiously, agreed, but until there was any proof that this had something to do with him, they had to go with what they knew, which wasn’t much. Chandler strode boldly into the incident room and announced to the team, “What we are dealing with here is an unsub who is probably well known to the victim. The hands and teeth were removed; those are generally removed to obscure the identity of the victim. No identification was found on the victim, which does seem to confirm this. It is probable that once we find out the identity of this John Doe we will also find the identity of his murderer, they must have known each other.” Kent and the rest of the team nodded thoughtfully, except Miles who stared off into the distance, deep in thought. Chandler then walked over to the whiteboard and filled in the information they had found so far on the victim. Kent stared up at the photo of the dead man and shuddered. He and Chandler looked too alike. Riley spoke up, somewhat reluctantly,  
“This has to be said, and I’ll be the one to say it, what about the fact that this vic looks so much like you?” Chandler looked back at her from the whiteboard.  
“I believe that to be nothing more than a coincidence, however just in case I’m wrong, I do plan on being extra careful.” Riley nodded satisfied and then Miles added,  
“Perhaps you should take a uniform home tonight.” Mansell snickered quietly to himself. Chandler put his marker down.  
“That is going a bit overboard.” Kent piped up nervously,  
“I’m willing to go home with you, sir!” Chandler smiled gently,  
“I have no doubts about your diligence Kent, however, I will be fine, don’t worry so much.” Kent muttered quietly.  
“Easy to say, Sir...” 

Kent ran his hand slowly down his smooth back, savoring his shivers. “No.” Chandler said softly. Kent had pulled his jacket and shirt down around his back trapping his arms inside. Chandler leaned against his desk his eyes winced closed. Kent bent near his ear and whispered,  
“Yes, you want this.” Chandler tried to pull away from the younger man’s surprisingly strong grip and said in a firmer voice,  
“No, I don’t. Stop.” Kent began licking his neck and bending Chandler still further over his own desk, beginning to rip Chandler’s Savile Row jacket in the process, “You’re ripping it!” Kent nuzzled against his face, saying,  
“Not yet, Sir. I love you.” Chandler screamed,  
“KENT!”  
  
“Kent wake up!” Kent lifted his head from his arm and blinked up at Chandler standing over his desk with a cup of steaming green tea in his hand. Kent asked,  
“Sir?”  
“Kent, it’s late, we will never catch the culprit if we are not properly rested.”  
“But what about you sir?” Chandler leaned against his desk, blew on his cup, and sipped his tea calmly.  
“I will be going home soon enough, but it is my job to be concerned about my team’s wellbeing.” Kent asked in a quaver,  
“Just, your job?” Chandler shook his head,  
“I did not mean it like that Kent. You are not just a coworker, you’re a friend.” Kent’s eyes looked down at his desk’s neatness and said quietly,  
“Thank you sir.” Chandler felt he must have said something wrong, but couldn’t for the life of him figure out what it was; he shrugged it off as nothing important and added,  
“I mean it, now why don’t you go home and get some rest.”  
“I will, sir.”  
“Goodnight Kent.”  
“Goodnight.” Kent left the office but did not go home to his empty flat as he had promised Chandler. His flat mates had scarpered off months ago, they hadn’t understood him, no one did except, maybe... He shook his head and took his scooter and sped off to his favored spot in the park across from Chandler’s apartment. It was a quiet secluded setting with rosebushes and a bench. He pulled out his binoculars from his bag and waited for Chandler to arrive, ready with his handy excuse of night bird watching, and his badge, in case a uniform came along to nick him. He was in for a long night as per usual.


	4. Right As Rain

Tonight’s the night, an evening of fun, a circus of epical delights, he was so eager he could barely contain himself as he strolled down the quiet lane, hands buried deeply in his pockets. He couldn’t help but reminisce about his dream of DI Joe Chandler in torment beneath his hand. He smiled broadly and came to the ordinary two-story tenement, here it was, yet another sheep with a resemblance to that particular person. The Internet made things so very easy, people loved posting photos and information about themselves. He grinned wider beneath his hoodie; he couldn’t wait to get him beneath his knife, the little lamb. Another gift offered up to him, his master.

Chandler yawned as the urgent ringing from his mobile awoke him. He reached blindly for the phone on his stand and answered it. Chandler answered,  
“Hello?” Commander Anderson asked worriedly,  
“Chandler?”  
“Yes?”  
“Good, it’s Anderson, there has been another.”  
“Murder?”  
“Yes, you should have notified me about the first one.”  
“It did not seem necessary at the time.”  
“It is now, this man also looks like you, he’s dressed like you, and he was found in Whitechapel. This is getting serious, I want you to have protection, 24hr surveillance, the works, and I want you off this case.”  
“That isn’t going to happen, sir, I’ll take the protection, but I’m sticking with this case, if someone is offing people who look like me I want to be the one to catch him.” Anderson sighed,  
“You’re so stubborn, just like your father.” Chandler’s grip on his phone tightened when his father was mentioned,  
“Thank you, Sir.” Anderson replied abruptly,  
“That wasn’t a compliment, it was his stubbornness that killed him and took him from both of us, I will not be responsible for losing you as well.”  
“With all due respect sir, I’m not him, I can take care of myself, and you will need me and my team on this case.”  
“I can see your mind is made up, very well, I will allow it, for now, but you will be careful and that is an order.”  
“I will, sir.”  
“Your protection detail will be starting immediately, I’m sending someone to pick you up, do not go anywhere alone, good luck Joe.” With that the commander hung up, leaving Chandler with a slew of questions, and he knew where to start getting his answers. But first he had to freak out; he put down the mobile, and began shaking. He could keep it together when he was talking to his Godfather but now… It was too much. Someone was killing his doppelgangers probably because of him. He might be next. Someone wanted to kill him!? And his Father, he hated thinking about him, why did Anderson always have to bring him up? He tried to calm down by going through the rituals necessary for leaving his home. First, make his bed then remake it, put his pajamas in his hamper, then shower, shave, shower again, put on his clothes, and his rubber band, check that his cufflinks were buttoned twice, then recheck just in case. Make some eggybread with orange juice, eat quickly, clean up, wash dishes, and finally leave the flat after checking that the door was locked six times. It had to be six. He met Miles at the lift.  
“Not leavn’ without me were ya?”  
“Of course not, for some reason I’m not surprised the Commander sent you to keep an eye on me.”  
“Well he probably figured I’d be used to it by now.” Chandler laughed nervously,  
“Probably.”  
When they arrived at the incident room the first thing Chandler did was to head into the bowels of the Met, where he knew his Archivist would be waiting, hopefully with the answers he so desperately needed. Miles dutifully followed.  
“You don’t have to come with me, you know, I know you don’t like it down there.”  
“Don’t you worry your head bout me, I’m dandy.”  
“Do not force yourself for my sake, we’re at the station now, I’m perfectly safe here.”  
“The Commander said not to let you outta my sight, and I’m followin’ his orders to the letter.”  
“Fine, I should know better than to argue with you by now.”  
“That you should.” As they went down the cramped stairs Miles began to look uncomfortable. Chandler did his best not to notice, or at least tried not to be too obvious about it. When they reached the dimly lit Archive, he saw that it looked a good deal more organized than when he had last been down there, no doubt that was Sally Trandle’s handy work. Which was good for him, he hated disorder, he found it…distracting. As he walked deeper into the maze of files, Miles breathing heavily behind him, he spotted Buchan sitting in a corner with a box of files in his lap. Chandler called out to him,  
“Buchan, any good news for me.” Buchan started, his glasses slipping down his nose,  
“Oh, Joe, yes actually, I’ve been looking into any cases with lookalike murders as you had asked me to. Hmm, hello Miles, don’t often see you down here, are you alright, you look a bit peaked?” Miles put a hand on a shelf to lean on,  
“Just peachy.” Chandler hurriedly changed the subject,  
“And the lookalike cases?”  
“Oh right, well there aren’t many, but they usually involve a celebrity or spurned lover, occasionally revenge, when the real focus of their anger or desire is unreachable for whatever reason.”  
“I see, could you send the relevant files up to me?”  
“Certainly Joe, I’ll have Sally bring them up.” Chandler glanced around the Archive,  
“Where is the erstwhile assistant then?”  
“Lunch break, she’s bringing me back a sandwich from the shop.”  
“Right then, good job Ed.” Miles looked serious over the rims of his glasses,  
“Thank you, and Joe be careful, those cases, none of them ended well.” Chandler nodded and quickly led Miles up into the open before he passed out.

Chandler was starting to feel deja vu. Miles and he were once again in the Pathology lab, looking at yet another victim who greatly resembled him with no hands, teeth, the same bruises and mutilations. Dr. Llewellyn did not look happy to see them when they entered the viewing room. “Before you ask, this one died in the same manner as the other, and while we have ascertained that both these men were drugged, we have still not isolated which drug it is. However there is good news.” Miles added sarcastically,  
“Good news ya say?” Llewellyn ignored his tone, she understood,  
“Yes we have determined that the instrument used to bash the heads in of both these victims was a steel baseball bat.” Miles said hopefully,  
“That’s helpful, there wasn’t any CCTV at either of the dumpsites, but maybe we can trace the sale of a metal bat there can’t be that many, or he could be a Yankee.” Chandler shook his head,  
“Nothing is ever that easy.”  
“It is when you aren’t involved.”  
“Ah, but I’m here am I not?”  
“Maybe this will be the exception that proves the rule.” Chandler sobered up,  
“I hope so.” Chandler turned abruptly towards the way out; Miles with a last somber look at Dr. Llewellyn followed. Miles hoped they solved this case soon, he had some ideas about how they could do just that, and they didn’t involve his nibs.  
When Chandler came upstairs he saw Kent arranging the whiteboard and adding the new information. Kent turned around when he felt Chandler’s eyes on him, “Are you alright, sir?” Chandler responded speedily,  
“Right as rain.” Kent knew that he was lying.


	5. Chopsticks

Miles had a sneaking suspicion that he knew who the killer was, and he had to follow this one up on his own. Chandler took too many things to heart, where they continued to bleed him out, till he was empty. Miles left Chandler in Kent’s capable hands while he went off to follow his lead. Kent wouldn’t leave the Guv alone, he was sure. Miles hated having to go to Pentonville, he knew too many people there, enemies and friends. The man he was going to meet was both of those or had been at one point or other. He eventually entered the interrogation room and saw the balding, miserable, hunched figure handcuffed at the other end of table. Miles greeted him and took a seat, “Fitzgerald.” Ex-DC Leo Fitzgerald responded with an ironic smile and drawled,  
“Miles. I hear you’ve been having problems.”  
“Have you now, Fitz?”  
“You’d be surprised what you can hear, even in a place like this. Like how that pansy DI’ski of yours is getting his copies knocked off.”  
“You being in the know don’t shock me, I know you still have contacts on the force.” Fitzgerald sighed tiredly,  
“Get to the point, what do you want Miles?”  
“You know what I want, I want you to confess.” Fitzgerald laughed,  
“Heh, heh confess?!”  
“Yeah, I know you’re behind these murders, no one hates the DI as much as you.”  
“You’re talking bollocks. I’m been behind these bars for a year now, how could I have anything to do with these murders of yourn?”  
“You have friends outside, family too, you could have organized this.”  
“You give me too much credit, an’ anyway, I don’t hate Chandler.” Miles said sarcastically,  
“Sure you don’t, the guy that demoted you, had you sent to prison, ruined your life, and you’re best mates, I’m sure!”   
“It’s you I hate, you bastard, you sold me out…Twice!” Miles looked shocked,   
“You betrayed our investigation, and would have let me, and the Guv get killed!”  
“I’d done it for you, Skip, I told you that, and the Kray’s didn’t give me a choice, they would have killed me and my family if I didn’t go along. You done ruined my mate McCormack too you know, you and that sanctimonious attitude. At least that pansy DI, I could understand, but you! You should ‘ov protected him!” Miles leaned back from his vehemence.  
“What, no, I-“  
“You killed him or as good as, after what happened to me how could he tell you that he had betrayed yet another investigation, whatever his reason! You hanged him! If I were to go after anyone it’d be you, you should have had my back, we were mates, and now you’re nothing to me, YOU HEAR ME NOTHIN, I’LL KILL YA IF I GET THE CHAN-!” Fitzgerald’s yells echoed after him, as Miles left the room breathing hard. Miles knew now that Fitzgerald had nothing to do with these murders. He also knew that he had made a mistake, he should never have come here. He was glad he hadn’t brought Chandler or anyone else after all. God, he hated Pentonville.

It had been a long day for Finley Mansell. First he had made up a list of all the local suppliers of steel bats; there were a surprising amount, so no joy there. Then he had tried to go out for an early lunch with Sally Trandle, but he’d been rebuffed, he still couldn’t figure that bird out. Then he and Kent had gone through all the CCTV around both drop sites, they were looking to see whether any of the same vehicles had been near both of the sites, so far they’d come up empty. By the time evening rolled around he was gagging to clock off. The others invited him to go with them to the pub but he declined for once. Miles was off who knew where, Kent had gone home with Chandler, to guard him, and Riley always made him feel uncomfortably guilty. So he decided to head home for an early night. He walked it, as he lived fairly close to the Met. He couldn’t help but wonder about these killings, they seemed almost, supernatural to him. After all, there wasn’t any forensic evidence, no CCTV, no witnesses, and how many people could look just like his DI? It was all more than a little peculiar. He fingered the pentacle he now wore on a necklace beneath his shirt. He wondered if he should tell the Boss his ideas. Then again he didn’t want to be taken for a nutter…so he’d hold his peace for now. But he was definitely going to bring some salt in his pocket to work tomorrow. Everyone knew that salt could protect you from evil. As he was passing the pub, he decided to go in after all. He’d certainly had a long day.

Kent was almost shaking with nervousness; Chandler had decided to take him to his favorite sushi place, Fuji. Chandler was very careful about the places he chose to eat out at. He always had to check out their kitchen and watch them prepare the food. Fuji had passed all his tests. Chandler gingerly grabbed a stool at the bar, “Join me, Kent, have whatever you want, since you are to be my guard dog for the evening I might as well feed you.”  
“Thank you, Sir!” Kent chose a stool beside Chandler and looked at the menu. Chandler barely even sat before the chef asked him,  
“Eel roll’s Joe-san?” Chandler looked up at the chef and smiled a rare smile,  
“Absolutely.” Kent tried to order quickly. He’d never eaten sushi before; it didn’t seem like something he would like, raw fish just seemed, well, ick. But if Chandler liked it, well it couldn’t be all that bad. He ordered something that didn’t seem too outlandish,  
“Uh, Salmon rolls?” Chandler winked at him and said,  
“Good choice.” The chef cooked the eel and put the sushi together behind the glass, while Chandler watched him closely. When he finished, he put the boxes in front of them with a grin. Chandler said,  
“Thank you Mushigi-san.”  
“You are always welcome Joe-san.” Chandler took out his chopsticks and Kent tried to mimic him, unsuccessfully. He had never used chopsticks before. Chandler noticed his fumbling and stopped eating.  
“Here, hold them between your thumb and forefinger, like this.” Chandler put the chopsticks in Kent’s hand, holding it gently. Kent’s eyes gazed at their hands and then traveled up to Chandler’s wrists, he thought that his wrists were so very skinny, and how they would look lovely when tied together with rope, No, he mustn’t think like that, not now, not here, with him. Kent smiled too widely and clumsily used the sticks to pick up a roll. He eventually got it into his mouth with some slips and encouraging looks from Chandler. It tasted…utterly fantastic, for more reasons than one.   
They finished the meal a little later and went to Chandler’s apartment. Kent had been to Chandler’s apartment before, but he had never been there with just Chandler. He wasn’t sure if it was such a good idea, but nothing could stop him from doing it anyway.


	6. Yet Another Treat

After Kent entered Joe’s apartment the first thing he did was to take off his shoes and place them, neatly, on the doormat. He understood Chandler’s foibles. Chandler glanced thankfully in his direction. Chandler asked, “You know, you don’t have to stay…” Kent looked him in the eyes,  
“I know… I want to.”   
“But you have been with me all evening, I wouldn’t want to put you out, I am certain we could get a uniform in to replace you.”  
“No, Sir, I couldn’t rest properly without knowing you’re safe.” Chandler looked away and smiled quietly to himself,   
“In that case, would you care for some tea?” Kent sighed out,  
“Absolutely.” Chandler strolled into his spotless kitchen to put on the kettle for them both. Chandler was the consummate bachelor, he possessed no dinning table, and instead had a couple of stools set against his dark marble kitchen counter. Kent sat on one and watched Chandler fuss about the kitchen. He seemed so comfortable here in his home. Kent had never seen him so at ease. Chandler felt his eyes on his back and turned around,   
“Are you alright, Kent?” Kent stuttered out,  
“Yeah. Er, you could call me Emerson, that is, if you wanted to...”   
“You are right, we have been coworkers for a number of years now, we ought to be on a first name basis. So, Emerson, you could call me Joe, when we are not working that is. There now it’s official.”   
“Joe.” Kent said aloud as if tasting the sound on his lips. Chandler brought out the kettle and poured out the cups.   
“You do like Green tea?”  
“Yeah, It’s great!”   
“How many lumps?”   
“Four.” Chandler opened the sugar canteen and put one cube into his cup and four into Kent’s.  
“Someone’s got a sweet tooth then, why am I not surprised.” Kent put down his cup and cradled the heat in his hands.  
“You know, Joe, I may be young but, well, that doesn’t mean I’m immature.” Chandler looked up from his cup, surprised,  
“Of course not. I never thought that you were.”  
“I know. It’s just that, I’m the youngest on the team, and I sometimes feel that I’m disrespected because of that and…underestimated.”  
“Kent…Emerson, I would never disrespect, or underestimate you, I never have.” Chandler looked at him earnestly. Kent looked down at his tea and took a hot gulp,  
“You’ve doubted me.”  
“Once. That was a mistake, I was…am sorry for it still.” Kent looked away,  
“Yeah, I know that, I shouldn’t have brought it up, we were having such a nice time and I’ve gone and ruined everything.” Chandler reached out to him and gripped his arm,  
“Emerson you have not ruined a single thing, it’s me that keeps messing up.” Kent looked up,  
“You?!” Chandler took his hand back and folded it in his lap,  
“Yes, as you pointed out, I did doubt you, and I shouldn’t have lost my temper and yelled at you during the bogeyman case, I basically caused…Morgan Lamb’s death, and this case, we haven’t gotten anywhere yet and I feel like…all these victims…they were killed because of me for some reason and here I sit under lock and key with a guard, and this fiend is still out there killing… All I do is keep making bad calls.” Kent shook his head violently,  
“No that isn’t true, none of it is, you can’t blame yourself for any of that, it isn’t your fault, it wasn’t your fault. I made the bad call by not telling you the truth, by doubting you, and I caused Morgan Lamb’s death. I told you; I went up there to apologize to her-” Chandler interrupted sadly,  
“I was the one that sent you there.”  
“Let me finish, after I left her there, I saw Cindy Watney looking at her, glaring, and I did nothing, I just left. I was once again, too afraid to tell you that. I could have stopped her, if I had only used my head. It was really my obliviousness that got her killed and hurt you; I know how much you cared for her.” Chandler looked at his hands and said quietly,  
“I barely knew her.”  
“I saw how you looked at her. You were near catatonic for almost a month after her death.” Chandler looked sad and perplexed as he asked with emotion,  
“Why does it matter so much to you?” Kent’s watery dark eyes looked up at him, imploring him,  
“You don’t know…Sir?” Chandler asked exasperatedly,  
“What do you want me to say, Kent?”  
“Nothing…nothing at all.” Chandler stared at him for a full minute looking at a loss for words, and then he turned to look at the clock on the wall and said awkwardly,  
“It’s late, I suppose I will be going to bed, after my shower. The sofa pulls out. There are spare blankets and pillows in the cupboard. Do you…need anything?” Kent said quietly, holding up his lumpy backpack,  
“No, I brought a bag.” Chandler nodded,  
“Good. Er…Goodnight.” Kent whispered,  
“Goodnight.”

Kent wondered what was wrong with him. Here he was at His apartment and he could do nothing but upset Him. He heard the shower turn on as he lay on the sofa. He was tempted, more than tempted. But he couldn’t, he would be caught, and then, poof, that would be it. Maybe he wanted Kent to go to him. After all, he had made particular mention that he would be showering. Maybe he was dropping a hint. That would be just like him, to be all circumspect. But, no, it was too risky, what if he was wrong; he might never see him again. He tossed and turned wondering what he should do. The rush of water seemed to be urging him on; he had been in there for ages. Maybe he was waiting for him, wondering why he didn’t come in… He turned his face into the pillow and covered his ears. Chandler would have to stop showering eventually.

After his shower, showers, he had to shower twice. He went to his bedroom and got under his silken covers. He flicked his lamp on and off the required number of times and took some pills to get to sleep. He was worried about his conversation with Kent and what it meant, for both of them. There was something about Kent that made him uneasy; it wasn’t just the conversation, although that was certainly part of it. Kent had been acting odd, snapping at odd moments, being impulsive, and mimicking his habits, mimicking him. It wasn’t just some sort of hero worship... That would have worn off ages ago. There was something wrong with Kent, something off, which had been for quite a while. He had kept his thoughts to himself, but he was worried. He had understood what question Kent had been asking, and he already knew the answer. He just wasn’t ready to give it just yet.

Kent awoke a little while later. He walked softly in his bare socks, to Chandler’s bedroom door and tried the knob carefully. It was unlocked. He cracked it open slowly and peeked in. The light from the hall reached in revealing a Chandler shaped lump beneath black covers. Kent moved all the way in. He walked to Chandler’s bed and looked down at him. Chandler’s eyelids twitched as he breathed deeply. Kent stared at him and clenched his hands convulsively.

Another night, and yet another treat... How he loved his work. The pickings were getting slim now. This one only vaguely resembled Joe, but he would make do. After all it didn’t pay to be picky, not at this stage, when he was so close to the climax. He was too excited for words. When he got to the address, he took off his backpack and reached for his instruments. The fun was only just beginning…


	7. Mother May I

Chandler woke up fairly early. He went through his morning rituals in as unobtrusive a way as possible. He noticed that Kent was already awake, dressed, and looking very tired. Chandler felt a little guilty, and if he was being honest with himself, it was more than a little. “Did you get any sleep at all?”  
“Some.” Kent looked up at him miserably with circles under his eyes, “Joe…Chandler, I am so sorry about last- about everything.” Chandler straightened his tie in the mirror above his faux fireplace. He desperately wanted to distance himself from the tension of the night before.  
“You have nothing to be sorry for, forget it. Would you like to have some breakfast?” Kent responded with a despondent,  
“Sure.”  
“You know, I make a great eggy in the basket.” Kent seemed suddenly hopeful,  
“I haven’t had that in ages.” Chandler smiled self-consciously,  
“Then I am sure you will enjoy the treat.” Chandler took out some muti-grain bread and used a food styling ring to cut a hole in the middle. Then he put some butter in his pan and began frying the bread on both sides, with a bit of cinnamon. When it was almost done, he broke a couple of eggs and dropped them in the holes in the bread. Kent in a melancholy mood said,  
“You know my mother often made that for me.”  
“Mine too. Your mother lives in Danesmoth, does she not?”  
“Yes, I call her every Sunday. Joe, I know I’m prying, but you never really talk about yourself, or your family, you keep things so close to the chest. Has your life really been so painful?”  
“Maybe it has, for me.”  
“You could tell me, I’ve always been here, Joe, waiting.” Joe gestured his hands towards himself in a strained motion.  
“Emerson, I am a particular sort of person, confiding in someone, even you, it isn’t easy for me.”  
“I just want you to know that you could tell me anything.”  
“Believe it or not just you saying that-” Chandler and Kent’s phone rang at the same time. Chandler breathed out, “Not another one.”

After visiting the crime scene of yet another Chandler lookalike murder, they entered the incident room together with Miles. Miles thought the Guv was holding up great. If he’d just seen the body of someone, who looked and was dressed exactly like him, and who had just had their face completely ripped off, as well as their hands and teeth destroyed; he’d be in tatters. But not Chandler, he just rolled with the punches, and he always got back up. That was what he liked best about him. Chandler asked the team, “How are we on forensics?” Miles took the floor saying,  
“Carol said that they have finally worked out the drug that was used on all the victims. It was some form of Chloral Hydrate, like a Mickey Finn. Funny, all these American connections, eh?” Chandler nodded,  
“More than a little, Kent, follow it up. Any more luck on the CCTV?” Kent walked quietly to his computer. Mansell, while jotting down notes on his iPad, said,  
“Not yet, but we are still looking into the footage from the new SOC.”  
“Keep at it, and Mansell, what is this all over your desk!?” Chandler had accidently touched Mansells desk and noticed that the desk was covered in salt. Chandler fastidiously wiped his hands on his trousers. Mansell looked up nervously,  
“Er…Pretzles?” Chandler looked at him in disgust,  
“Clean it up, Mansell.”   
“Right Guv.” Chandler took a minute to compose himself as Mansell went hurriedly to fetch a cloth. Everyone looked away in embarrassment. Chandler then asked,  
“Riley, any witnesses?” Riley looked around her computer screen,  
“We are canvasing the area, the body was dumped by the waterfront so someone might have noticed something and not realized what they had seen. Uniform is currently going door to door.”  
“Alright stay on that then, I’ve got a line of my own to look into, Miles would you mind coming with?” Miles joined Chandler as they walked out of the room.  
“Right, your line might get ya pulled in the muck without me.”  
“I wouldn’t go that far.” Miles chuckled,  
“Depends how hard they pulled ya.” Chandler cautioned,  
“Miles.” Miles expression became serious,  
“Sir, this murderer, he’s escalated, what he did to him…I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy.”  
“No, I wouldn’t either.”  
“What I’m saying is, I think you should let someone else run this enquiry.”  
“Miles, I know your worried abou-“. Miles interrupted angrily,  
“This isn’t a Mother May I game, this is serious and personal, and it’s obviously directed straight at you!”  
“It probably is, which is why I wanted you to join me for this.” Miles asked annoyed,  
“And what is this, exactly?” Chandler stated calmly,  
“There is someone in this station who has a grudge against me, and has tried their utmost to ingratiate themselves into this investigation.”  
“Could you be a bit more mysterious, who would that be then?” Chandler gestured over to the busty blond next to Buchan who was going through his notes on the stairs.  
“Why, she’s standing right over there.” Miles looked incredulously,  
“What, her, Sally Trandle!?” Chandler looked at him seriously,  
“This is just a theory, but I looked her up Miles, she’s more than she appears to be.”  
“Well you know what I think of your theories, but we might as well ask her if she thinks murder is a fun bedtime hobby.” Chandler sighed exasperatedly and moved up to Sally.   
“Ms. Trandle, could we speak with you a moment?” Sally nervously replied,  
“Certainly.” Buchan bustled up asking,  
“Hey Joe, are you alright? I heard that last body was a real mangled affair, you know from what I have heard of the mutilations, it sounds rather a lot like the rip-“. Chandler interrupted impatiently,  
“Tell me later, Ed.” Buchan deflated and let them move away,  
“Sure, Joe.” Miles guided Sally over to a side office. Chandler decided to cut right to the chase as soon as he sat Ms. Trandle down, he said,  
“So, Sally, I know who you are and what you are doing here.” Sally looked cornered,  
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”   
“Oh I am afraid you do, your Morgan Lamb’s little half-sister.” Miles yelled,  
“What?!” Sally cut the innocent act and started speaking with an American accent. She glared at Chandler,  
“So what?”  
“You and your mother blame me for her death.” Sally clenched her fists and said,  
“Who else should we blame, she was under your protection, you brought her into the station and let her get killed, and you walk around scot-free.”   
“So you and your mother thought that you should punish me? You managed to attach yourself to Buchan so that you could enter these offices and have a direct line on me. ” She snarled,  
“Yes.”  
“Then you decided to kill anybody that had the least bit of resemblance to me?” Miles finally came out of his shock enough to say,  
“Let’s nick this daft broad, Boss.”  
“NO, no, we would never do something like that, we just wanted you to suffer as we have, to know how we feel! We were just going to make your life a little harder, a bloody note here, a popped tire there… And then, I followed you Chandler, I’ve seen you visit her grave, over and over again, always with a white rose, she has so many now...” Sally’s eyes watered up. Chandler looked away from her to study the wall intently. Miles glanced at him. “I realized that you must have missed her too, and that you were sorry, sorry she was dead. I told mother that, she said that she forgave you. Morgan was the greatest sister in the world to me, I lived all the way in the States with our mom, but she would always come to visit and call us whenever she could. She even paid for me to go to the university here so that we could be nearer.” Sally was crying in earnest now. Chandler took out his pocket kerchief and gave it to her. Miles moved close to Chandler and said quietly,  
“Don’t fall for her story Guv, she’s a Yank and wants revenge on you, she’s even close in on the investigation, everything fits.”  
“No, I believe her.”  
“We should still nick her until we check her story out.”  
“No, Miles, I owe her more than that.” Sally looked up at him and tried to give him the hanky back, he shook his head and stepped back quickly from the damp bit of cloth.  
“Thanks, It’s more than I deserve, Morgan told Mom all about you, ya know.” Chandler looked surprised,  
“She did?”  
“Yeah, she said how kind you were to her, and how she was going to go out on a date with you.” Chandler looked devastated,  
“I am so sorry, it was my fault-“.  
“No, we were just angry and wanted to blame someone, it wasn’t your fault, it just happened. I’m sure Morgan was really pissed at us for what we almost did. She really liked you.”  
“Thank you, for forgiving me.” Miles shoved Chandler over gently and asked,  
“Enough of this bird-talk, do you like baseball?” Sally replied,  
“Sure, who doesn’t, but that doesn’t mean I bashed a bunch of guys heads in with a bat.” Miles smiled slowly,  
“Maybe not, but where is your mother now?”  
“In a hotel on Stepney Way, but she has nothing to do with these killings.” Miles snorted,  
“So you say, but we are still going to have a little chat, now you stay here at the station Sir. I’ll put a uniform with the girl here and go with a couple of coppers to her mother’s, just in case of the worst.” Chandler sighed,  
“Well, I suppose it has to be done. I am sorry about this Sally.”  
“No it’s OK, rules have to be followed, right? Just be gentle with Mom, she’s had a hard time.” Miles nodded shortly and took Chandler out of the room and set a uniform to watch the door.  
“You alright?”  
“I suppose, I kind of feel better actually.” Miles smiled,   
“Good. So how’d ya cotton on to who she was.”  
“I told you I looked into her background, I thought it was strange that a girl like her would be interested in doing this sort of work for hardly any pay, and with Buchan of all people.” Miles muttered,  
“I should of thought of that. Well, I’ll go look into the mother, I’ve got a feeling we’ll have this enquiry wrapped up before lunch.” Chandler shook his head at him,  
“It’s not her Miles.”  
“Well we won’t know till we try, anyway Sir, I’ll be back before you can say candlefloss.”

Miles finally returned from Stepney Way a couple hours later. He had been satisfied that Chandler was right, damn him. The yank mother and daughter had nothing to do with anything. He was surprised to learn that Chandler had left. He asked worriedly,  
“Where did he go, did he take someone with him?” Riley turned around from her desk and said,  
“Calm down skip, he took constable Landsmen with him, he said there was one more lead he had to track down.” Miles did not calm down, he had been wrong, this was not over, and he should never have left him alone,  
“What lead, and where’s Kent?” Riley looked confused,  
“The Boss didn’t rightly say, you know how he is, and Kent went out to get us some lunch. He should have been back by now actually.” Miles said succinctly,  
“Shit.” Miles got out his mobile and called Chandler’s number,   
“Joseph Chandler, if you would like to leave a message-“. Miles hung up and started muttering to himself,  
“Shit, shit, shit…” Riley moved up to him and grabbed his arm; she had never seen Miles like this,   
“Skip what is it, what’s wrong?” Miles starred at the phone in his hand and said quietly,  
“It’s gone straight to voicemail.” Mansell came across the room and tried to be reasonable,  
“Maybe he hasn’t got service-“. Miles asked incredulously,  
“In London?!” Mansell put his hands up,  
“I don’t know.”  
“Put a trace on his phone, now. I’ll try the constable’s.” Riley rushed to her computer and said,  
“Alright, I’m on it.” Miles heard the constable’s phone ringing, and then his voicemail picked up. He ended the call and threw his mobile across the room in frustration.   
“Mansell, trace constable Landsmen’s mobile!” Mansell looked happy to have anything to do in this situation, and shouted,  
“Right!” Riley looked up, shocked,  
“Skip, there isn’t a signal, the phone’s been…destroyed.” Miles looked crushed, he collapsed into the chair behind him, his worst fears realized.  
“Miles, I’ve got the constable’s location here, they’re in…on damn…they’re in the car park at East Aldgate!” They all looked at each other in mute worry for one second, then they ran out the door.  
They arrived at the scene minutes latter; Miles had called in reinforcements to meet them there. They immediately saw Chandler’s silver car parked where the original body had been found. When they reached the car, both front doors had been left open. They found Landsmen’s body by the passenger seat; his head had been beaten in, he was obviously dead. They saw Chandler’s mobile crushed beside him. But there was no sign of Chandler, or his body, anywhere. Miles fell to his knees beside the phone and whispered,  
“Oh God, he’s got the Guv!”


	8. Pointy Things

Chandler’s eyes fluttered open slowly; he could make out that he was in a dim room, a basement. He saw cement steps leading to a cracked open door to the side. There was a flickering light shinning overhead and a figure standing directly in front of him. His eyes widened in shocked recognition, “YOU?!” The figure, a middle aged pale man smiled widely and said in a creepy guttural voice,   
“Why yes, it is me, long time no see, Joey. I’m so happy that we could finally have our reunion.” Chandler struggled vainly to move and saw that his hands and feet were tied with stout rope to a chair. He looked up at the man he had encountered only once before, and that had been at the end of his first big case, that man they had called the Ripper,  
“But you can’t be…I thought you were dead.” The Ripper shook his head slowly and leaned forward cocking his head to the side,  
“Now what could have put that silly idea in your head, I couldn’t go without having my revenge on you, how could I?” Chandler asked abruptly,  
“Where’s Constable Landsmen?”  
“Oh that poor useless copper with you? Yeah he’s stone cold dead, I’m afraid. A broken head will do that to ya.” Chandler’s teeth clenched, feeling guilty. He whispered,  
“Who are you, who are you really?” The Ripper looked pleased and walked over to a side table were there were a set of rusty tools, and a bloodied steel bat leaning against the bricked wall, his back to Chandler.  
“Ah well that is a long story, but since we’re friends and all, you can call me RipperFan.” Chandler tried to subtly work his hands out of his ropes while distracting Ripperfan,  
“Why are you doing this?” Ripperfan’s back shook with silent laughter as he raved,  
“So full of questions you’re boiling over, but don’t tell me you don’t know? You prevented the completion of my grand work, my apocalyptic apotheosis, and the honorable homage to my un-inglorious Master. You were my nemesis, not that Miles bloke. You do remember don’t you, I’m down on whores, and I shan’t quite ripping them till I do get buckled, but you buckled me Chandler, or as good as, and I owe you one for that. So I killed your lookalikes as a sort of opening act, which I do so hope you enjoyed. I did it all for us, to culminate in this marvelous maniacal moment, no that’s not right, I mean excruciating crescendo!” Chandler realized the bonds were too tight to squirm out of, the ropes dug too deeply into his skin, he was also beginning to feel more than a bit woozy, the flickering of the ceiling light was making him sick. Catching hold of the one real important bit of the Ripper’s rant, the detective in him asked faintly,  
“Ma-aster?” Ripperfan turned around holding up a hypodermic in one hand,  
“Ah the drugs are finally kickin’ in are they? I gave you quite a large dose, my own special mixture. As to my Master he is my great, great, and so on, Grandfather, George Hutchinson.” The name worked its way into his fuzzy brain, as did the understanding that he had been drugged.   
“What!? Ripperfan took a grand pose as if for a photo shoot,  
“Yeah, dear old Granddaddy Hutchinson was the original Jack, he left us his diary and trophies. After dismantling that red headed whore he moved to America, started a family, and continued his work on the quiet. I am his legacy.” Chandler’s head sunk to his chest as he muttered,  
“You must…be joking.” Ripperfan moved up to him and lifted Chandler’s head by his hair. He stared him in the eye and said seriously,  
“No the joke will be on you Joey, I’m so eager to get started, the Doctor is in and ready to see you now.” He lifted a sharpened blade in his other hand and pressed it hard against Chandler’s cheekbone. Chandler winced at the feel of blood dripping from the cut, but felt little pain. A shrill voice screamed followed by the door to the cellar suddenly slamming open,  
“NO” Emerson Kent gazed down the stairs right into Chandler’s dulled eyes, Chandler lurched in his chair almost knocking it over and struggled to yell,  
“No…Kent!” Ripperfan steadied Chandler’s chair and put the knife against his neck while turning to face Kent’s terrified form.  
“Why, if it isn’t Dear Kentyboy, come for a nice visit. Would you care for a spot of tea, shall I be Mother?” Kent froze as soon as he saw the knife against Chandler’s throat,  
“Let him go!” Ripperfan said in an insinuating voice,  
“But that would never do, he is my honored guest, surely you of all people should understand.” Kent started,  
“What are you talking about?” The Ripper smiled,  
“I’ve been watching you, well I’ve been watching Chandler actually, and therefore I’ve been watching you as well.” Kent looked at Chandler, trying to determine how conscious he actually was,  
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Ripperfan said in a singsong tone,  
“You don’t? How odd, I’ve looked into you, poor sick Kent…” Kent suddenly snarled,  
“Shut up.” Ripperfan playfully put a hand over Chandler’s ear,  
“Oh touched a sore spot eh, don’t want him to hear, do you?” Kent yelled angrily,  
“Shut up!” The Ripper lifted his hand from the ear and made a placating gesture, Chandler’s head lolled barely noticing the knife still pressed tight against his neck leaving a bright red line,  
“Now, now, listen here, I’ve got a proposition for you Emerson dear, that I know you’ll want to hear. You wouldn’t come in here alone if you had back up; you’re all by yourself; no one knows you’re here, so why can’t we both play with him? After all, you know he still loves that rotting Morgan bird, spends more time with her corpse than he ever did with you, poor pitiful thing. Of course, I could just cut off the bits of him you don’t like while you look on, but since I feel sorry for you and all, how’s about we do your boss together you and I, I know that’s what you really want.” Kent looked off into the distance,  
“You don’t know what I want.” Ripperfan cocked his head,  
“Oh no? I’ve seen the way you look at him, even now you’re turned on aren’t you, aren’t you? I’ll share him with you, well most of him anyways.” Kent moved down the stairs slowly, his heart in his eyes, Chandler was mostly unconscious his eyes squinted tightly shut. Ripperfan put up the hand not holding the knife in a stopping gesture as soon as Kent stepped down from the last step.   
“Now wait a mo, what’s your decision, and you could stand just there and watch if you want, I know how much you like to watch.” Kent looked straight at Chandler, bound to the chair, completely helpless,  
“No, I’ll play.” Ripperfan took the knife away from Chandler’s neck and clapped his hands,  
“Fantastic, here you can play with this. I’ll keep the pointy things for myself if you don’t mind.” The Ripper tossed him a coiled whip. Kent caught it gingerly. He moved cautiously up to Chandler, while gripping the whip tightly to his chest. Ripperfan kept his knife trained in his direction, ready for any sign of betrayal. Kent unrolled the whip and flicked it to the side expertly. The air snapped. Ripperfan grinned. Kent looked Ripperfan dead in the eye as he turned towards Chandler. Then he quickly whipped it at Chandler, catching his left upper arm and ripping it back. Chandler flinched slightly. The Ripper chuckled and bent forward to look at the blow beneath the torn shirt,  
“Nice form. I knew you had it in-guh” Ripperfan clutched suddenly at his stomach. Kent had swiftly curled his arm around to stab him with the switchblade he always carried. Kent buried the knife even deeper as he crouched behind his back, almost hugging him, he moved closer and whispered caressingly in the Ripper’s ear,  
“I don’t share.” The Ripper collapsed to the cement floor and bled out, too weak to move. Kent calmly wiped the knife on Ripperfan’s shirt and put it back in his pocket. He knelt reverently in front of Chandler’s chair. Kent leaned up and licked the cut on Chandler’s cheek and said softly. “No one hurts you…but me.” Then he kissed Chandler full on his unresisting lips. Chandler’s vague eyes opened slightly and then closed again as he fell completely unconscious. Kent moved backwards looking at him longingly, and then began untying him from the chair. Armed response followed by Miles and the team found them moments later.


	9. A Rabbit Tea Party

Miles sat next to the Boss’ hospital bed. Chandler had a bandage on his face, arm, wrists, and neck. He was hooked up to an IV so that the drugs could be flushed out of his system. Miles texted Judy, his kids had clued him in on the whole texting revolution. He told her that Chandler was alright, well as alright as could be expected, no thanks to him. Miles looked over at Chandler’s pale face. He was guilt-ridden; he should never have left the Guv’s side. And then there was Kent. Miles had watched him when they entered that horrible bloody cellar. Kent’s eyes had lost something, something they had been steadily losing for a while now, his innocence. As Kent had looked up at him from his position by the body, his eyes, they had been empty and very dark, and if he admitted to himself, they had scared him more than a little. But that was ridiculous. Kent was Kent.   
“Miles…?” Chandler called to him weakly as he awoke his eyes bruised and tired. Miles gently gripped his hand,  
“I’m here, Guv, you’re safe.” Chandler asked softly, confused,  
“Safe?”  
“Yeah, you’re at Charring Cross, all’s well, go back to sleep.” Chandler tried to move, Miles held him down. Chandler asked seeming more alert,  
“No I’m awake, what, what happened?”  
“A rabbit tea party, go to bed sir.” Chandler demanded,  
“Tell me, Ray.”  
“Fine! That bastard Ripper’s good and dead permanent-like, you’re in hospital, and Kent’s being debriefed.” Chandler blinked at the barrage of information,  
“How is Kent? I don’t remember much, but things certainly didn’t happen the way we had planned.” Miles eyes shifted as he lied,  
“Kent’s fine.” Chandler was about to interject when Miles went on heatedly, “What do you mean planned? You two planned this?” Chandler sighed tiredly,  
“Miles, the killer had escalated, I knew what was coming next and so did Kent. We had talked it over and agreed that the next step would probably be to come after me. Kent was to trail me from a discreet distance. He was supposed to call for help and then come and aid me in nicking the fiend. But things happened too quickly. Neither of us thought that I would be attacked in broad daylight, or that he would try to kidnap me, especially while I was with Constable Landsmen, poor Arnold.” Miles snorted quietly,  
“Landsmen was a good copper, he knew the risks.”  
“Regardless I was reckless...”  
“Yes you were, but that wasn’t your fault either. So I s’pose Kent must have followed you when he couldn’t get to you in time.” Chandler nodded and then gripped his head in pain,  
“Ow…he must have done.”  
“Then he called us and tactical when he saw you arrive at Kalcurst.” Chandler looked up, surprised,  
“Is that where I was, I really don’t remember much of anything until I awoke in that…basement, and then only a little. Kent must have been watching at the door the whole time, and heard everything; he waited till I was in real danger before coming in. I…owe him my life…Miles…” Chandler’s eyes began to drift closed in exhaustion, Miles said softly,   
“Right, I know, don’t worry on it.”

A month later Miles and Chandler were on an obbo. They sat in a parked cab. Miles sat in front with a flat cap on and Chandler was seated in the back as they watched a house on brick lane. Chandler broke the silence between them saying,  
“Miles, I always wondered, why do you insist on playing a cabbie every time we are observing someone?”  
“Oh didn’t you know, it’s a great cover, no one ever looks twice at a cabbie. Besides I’m a very convincing civvie.” Chandler smiled as he tapped on his thigh to the radio.  
“How about turning it up.” Miles looked into the rear view mirror and stared at Chandler,  
“Humph, never figured you for a Cher fan.” Chandler looked into the mirror seriously,  
“Miles there is one thing you must never do, never overestimate me.” They looked at each other for a full minute before bursting out into laughter. Miles turned up the radio and “The Beat Goes On” played louder.

 

S04E02  
Miles goes on vacation to Brighton Beach with the family but murder follows him. Its up to the Whitechapel team to solve the most perplexing series of crimes they have ever come across…if they can.

Blurb from next episode.  
-Chandler gasped loudly as he woke up. It wasn’t the first time he had had a nightmare about his time with the Ripper. But this one was decidedly different. He rubbed his lips, remembering something, a feeling, a taste, a name, and then losing it again. Then he heard a muffled noise and felt a chill. There was something terribly wrong; he blindly searched the darkness of his room, fearing to move. He was not alone.-

**Author's Note:**

> I have never written fanfic before and wished to try my hand at it, hope you like it or at least not hate it entirely(fingers crossed). And I simply couldn't wait till the next episode. ;p This'll be a bit of a slow goer but I'll get there eventually.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Whitechapel or any of its characters.


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